Lewis. Not any of your father's own; only my share of the fortune of old Crack-brains.
Counsellor. Old Crack-brains! What do you mean?
Lewis. As if you did not know! Why my old uncle, to whom you have prescribed a little wholesome confinement, by way of cure for his pretended madness.
Counsellor. Oh! that old man! So, so.
Lewis. Exactly. You always seem wonderfully at a loss when that point is touch'd.
Counsellor. But—I was going to observe—yes—it might be done, had he not escaped—but now it is uncertain whether he is alive, or what is become of him.
Lewis. I say he is dead.
Counsellor. But we have not heard.
Lewis. He shall be dead.
Counsellor. But——